Five Stages of Grief: Jack Harkness
by asmidgeofexcitement
Summary: How could anyone live through the loss of someone they loved with all of their heart, mind, soul and being? How could anyone survive the inner turmoil and raging, conflicting and ravishing emotions? The answer, of course, would be if they had no choice… A brief collection of Jack Harkness's thoughts after the events of the 456.


**Title: The 5 Stages of Grief: Jack Harkness**

**Summary: How could anyone live through the loss of someone they loved with all of their heart, mind, soul and being? How could anyone survive the inner turmoil and raging, conflicting and ravishing emotions? The answer, of course, would be if they had no choice… A brief collection of Jack Harkness's thoughts after the events of the 456.**

**Warnings: Suicidal thoughts and actions. Mentions of sex.**

**A/N: Got inspired after reading brionyjae's 5 stages of grief for Ianto after Jack had left with The Doctor. You should go read it! :D**

**Enjoy (if you can).**

* * *

1: Denial

Ianto wasn't dead.

Jack knew that it had to be impossible. He knew if he just stared at Ianto's body long enough, soon his suit-clad chest would start to rise and fall with slow breaths. Jack had brought him back to life with a kiss once before. Surely it would work again this time. He just had to wait longer. So he and Gwen sat there, staring. Waiting. He didn't bother hiding his tears. There was no point.

He knew Gwen had to have accepted that Ianto was dead quite a while ago. He knew she had given up on him, but Jack had faith. Faith that he hadn't been too late with his last-stitch effort to keep Ianto alive. Faith that Ianto wouldn't, COULDN'T, leave him. Not now. Not when Jack had finally heard those three words in that beautiful, Welsh voice.

His love would wake up, give him a mocking grin, and probably ask if Jack had really sat there for God knows how many hours waiting for him. Jack just knew it.

When Gwen finally attempted to get him up, trying to unclasp Jack's strong fingers from Ianto's lifeless ones, Jack didn't even notice. He didn't budge. He waited until a medical team from UNIT came down, and he demanded Ianto be put under surveillance, because he would be coming back to life in no time. The doctors all gave Gwen a worried look that Jack didn't catch. He also missed the small shake of his employee's head, telling the medics not to listen to him.

Jack let them take Ianto.

"I know he's not dead, Gwen." he whispered to her as they walked out of the building where officials had stored the victims of the 456, "I mean, its Ianto. You have to understand that this wasn't supposed to happen." his voice cracked slightly before he cleared his throat.

"Well... Maybe not, Jack." she murmured using the voice that Jack recognized as one saved for talking to victims of terrible incidents, either human or alien caused. "But that doesn't mean it didn't happen."

"Don't patronize me and make it sound like we're mourning him." Jack whispered with an eerie calm in his voice, "Ianto. Is. Not. Dead."

"Jack! The sooner you accept that he's gone-"

"I'm not accepting anything! He's not dead. I gave him some of my life essence, I did it before when Lisa threw him across the Hub. It will work this time, it's just taking too damn long!" he huffed. With a final jut of his chin and a swish of coat tails, he was gone.

* * *

2: Anger

Jack sat on the couch in the makeshift Torchwood headquarters. He didn't know why he came back here. There was nothing but pain in the memory of Ianto. He glared at the ceilings, wishing he had a way to escape the emptiness. The pure loneliness. He had no one, not even Gwen.

Gwen... She had abandoned hope for both Ianto and Jack.

Jack hated her.

The Doctor... This could all be traced back to him, couldn't it? It was his fault Jack even died on Satellite 5! Jack could be living a stress free, sex and money-filled life right now as a con man, instead of all the shit The Doctor's put him through. The Doctor didn't even try to help save Steven or Ianto, and it was The Doctor's fault Jack couldn't end his own life to escape it!

Jack hated him.

Owen and Tosh... They had abandoned him, too! They were taken by death so simply. A way Jack never could. Their deaths taunted him now, on top of the immense guilt he felt over the idea that they were dead because of him. They made him feel like reforming Torchwood wasn't enough. As if no matter what Jack had tried, everyone in Torchwood died young.

Jack hated them.

He hated everyone and everything! He hated life, he hated people. He hated all of the animals and all of existence throughout the universe! The only being who could even relate to this level of pain would be the Doctor... But of course, the Doctor could die and never come back. The Doctor had that option.

Jack's anger and raw hatred reached the boiling point. He burst. He flipped over the ratty sofa and swept everything off of the table in one violent sweep of his arm before slamming his fist down and effectively snapping the cheep table in half. He let out an inhuman roar before pulling out his Webley and taking aim at the startled pigeons flying frantically around the warehouse. He shot off five rounds, each one hitting a bird. One of the creatures landed in front of him and he kicked it away from him before turning and running out of the building. He needed a roof.

He managed to make it to the top of the tallest building he could find and letting loose another booming cry of despair before running towards the edge and launching himself off, falling into sweet oblivion.

Jack hated himself.

* * *

3: Bargaining

Jack sobbed quietly in an alleyway. He had passed a small cafe and couldn't take the smell of coffee. Coffee he knew would never taste the same as Ianto's.

He pulled at his hair and gave away to the heaving breaths and whimpers as he slipped further into hysteria.

Oh what he would do for a cup of Ianto's coffee... He would starve himself for a week.. Hell, he would probably set fire to a small, hostile town. He would make sure there were no children, but then he would do it with no shame.

Oh what he would do for mortality... He would endure the worst possible pain if that meant he would die. Hell, for mortality, he'd set fire to all of London. Of course, he'd evacuate the children. Or maybe he wouldn't. If he could easily just go kill himself afterwards, then there would be no guilt for him to endure.

Oh... Oh gods what he would do to have Ianto back with him. He almost didn't want to think about it. He would assassinate government officials. He would endure beatings and torture and endless pain. He would even kill The Doctor...

Could he though? Could he do any of those things? If it all boiled down to it, and he were given a legitimate choice?

Jack let out another sob as he realized the answer was yes. He was truly heartless. Ianto was his soul and everything good about him. He fumbled for his Webley and took the barrel in his mouth with another sob. Without Ianto, he was nothing but a soulless, evil man who couldn't die no matter how many good people tried.

It was almost ironic then, though, that Jack would prove all of that just to get the Welshman back.

He would prove all of that just to have the bullet actually end his life. And with that note, the trigger pulled, and he barely even registered the pain.

* * *

4: Depression

Jack found it interesting, as he lay in a bathtub of some dingy hotel with a long knife in one hand, his other arm stretched out on the edge of the tub, to watch himself heal so quickly. It was almost surreal.

He pressed the tip of the blade to his wrist again and pulled back slowly, slicing open the skin on his forearm. He relished the short-lived pain and watched the blood trickle down before his skin cells replenished, and his arm was good as new. He sighed a strangled, shaky sigh and let his eyes drift shut.

There was no meaning to anything now. He was a shell of the shells of his formal self. He rarely left the hotel he was in, which he spent most of the time writing out ways he could end his life. Ones he hadn't tried yet. Sometimes, he would just sit in a corner and weep uncontrollably. Other times, he would drown himself in alcohol until he was numb, then he'd pass out and wake up in a puddle of his own sick.

He tried several times to go out and pick up someone for a quick shag. He couldn't do it with men, though. His fragile emotional state wouldn't allow him to do anything that could remind him of Ianto... So he stuck with women. He would bring them in, have his way and be absolutely ruthless as he only focused on his own cheep and unfulfilling pleasure. When he was done, he'd kick her out, take a shower and cry more as he realized how much of a mess he was.

And he was. He was a complete disaster. He rarely slept because if the nightmares, and every waking moment was filled with pain.

He was so grateful when the day came that he just couldn't feel anything. All of his emotion was gone. He was numb and completely empty.

If someone were to look at him, even though his appearance hadn't changed, they wouldn't recognize who he was. His eyes were dark empty blue pools of unfiltered sadness. Every now and then he'd snap, though. Now was one of those times.

Nothing could help him.

He gripped the knife in both hands and shoved it towards his gut. He let out a gargle before there was silence.

That would be his 17th death in 4 days…

* * *

5: Acceptance

Jack looked down over Cardiff for what he knew would be the last time. It had been six months. Jack knew Ianto wasn't coming back now. Ianto was gone forever. Jack would never again hear that sarcastic tone, those beautiful Welsh vowels or the way that Ianto had moaned his name. He would never again see those deep blue eyes, that wry smile, or those perfectly tailored suits. He would never again smell that unique and alluring scent that was so undeniably… Ianto. He would never again taste that perfect coffee. He would never again feel his lover's lips against his, Ianto's hair tangled in his fingers, or the Welshman's heart beating faster than anything Jack could think of.

Everything that mattered to Jack was taken away from him in the harshest of ways, and no matter what he did, there was nothing that would get any of it back.

The only solace Jack had was that he finally had accepted it, if you could call it that. Under no circumstances was he at peace with it, but now he no longer wasted his time denying it.

Jack knew he needed to leave Earth to completely escape the memories of the young Welshman. He managed to get a simple teleport function to work on his Vortex Manipulator. He was ready to leave the planet and never return. He just had one last loose end to tie up. He called Gwen.

For the last time, Jack sent himself plummeting towards the Earth's surface, woke up 30 minutes later, then made his way to the location he told Gwen and Rhys.

He had tried to convince himself that he wasn't going to cry. He wanted to look strong in front of his last surviving friends. That didn't work, though… he was still on Earth. He was still reminded of everything he had lost. He was still weak.

He bid Gwen goodbye before pressing the button on his wrist strap and being overcome by the familiar but old sensation of teleportation. He smiled faintly. He was in an alien club of sorts. He slowly walked over to the bar and ordered a glass of scotch.

This was the night. He was going to find something male to sleep with. He was going to get over Ianto. Jack had to accept that he was gone.

He felt his throat close up slightly and forced away the tears before a white slip of paper was pushed into his hand. Jack looked up and saw the Doctor. He felt a small flare of hope rise in his chest.

He opened the note up. 'His name is Alonso.'

Jack glanced at the Doctor again, seeing his old friend nod to the side slightly. Jack looked over and examined the young man sitting next to him. Not half bad…

Did the Doctor know? Jack wondered as he looked back over at the Time Lord. The Doctor gave him a small one-fingered salute, and Jack properly saluted him back.

He turned to who he assumed was Alonso, taking a large swig of his drink. This was it. Jack was going to get over Ianto, and he was going to use this unsuspecting midshipman as the means of doing so. For all Jack knew, it could be the start of another relationship.

No. Actually, it wouldn't. There was no way Jack was being pulled into that again.

He swallowed his grief and put on a small smile before scooting a bit closer to the sailor.

"So… Alonso. Going my way?"


End file.
